


The Concealed Ones

by Emma



Series: The Queen's Magicians [20]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An apocalyptic cult is trying to hasten the end of the world but when Torchwood steps in, it finds much more than it expected. This takes the place of <em>Dead Man Walking</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is in fact an old synagogue, rather beautiful, at 13a Cathedral Road in Cardiff. It's now an office building. The Jewish population of (real) Cardiff is small and in the early 2000s built a newer place consolidating several congregations. I really like the one on Cathedral Road, so I appropriated it. 
> 
> Rabbi, rav, and rebbe all are variations of the same word but have different usages. In this case, Jack (and others) call the Rabbi rav as a sign of respect.
> 
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzadikim_Nistarim. There are better sources. Google is your friend.

Jack closed the report he was trying to read; two hours and he hadn't gotten past the second page. If it were up to him he would require all new government hires to take a creative writing course, or at least one on how not to use twenty Latinate words when five well-chosen English ones would do. Most days he would just laugh at it and read some of the worst to Ianto in what Ianto called Jack's BBC news reader's voice. Today, he had no patience for any of it.  
  
Owen was still in a coma, although both Martha and the Bishop's medical sensitive overseeing the case had said he seemed to be improving. _There's no way to predict when he will wake up_ , the sensitive told him, and Jack didn't miss the bewilderment in her voice. _He seems to be... well, the best way I can describe it is climbing his way out of a chasm_. On her advice they had rearranged the work area and moved Owen's bed to one of the spaces near Tosh's desk. _The more normal his surroundings the better he'll do_ , she had told them. Everyone spent at least part of the day talking to him. Ianto even moistened his lips with coffee, and they were elated the day he actually started to drink some of it. But he still didn't wake up, and in his most melancholy moments Jack wondered if Owen would become like the princess in the fairy tale, asleep for a hundred years. He wondered if Tosh would be able to move on and whether she could forgive herself for leaving him behind.  
  
“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, Jack,” Ianto rested his hands on Jack's shoulders and kneaded lightly. “We'll manage. We always do.”  
  
Jack let his head fall back against Ianto's chest. “Thank you, cariad.”  
  
Ianto came around the chair to sit in his favorite spot at the edge of Jack's desk. “I came up to ask what you wanted for lunch.”  
  
“Using the back stairs?”  
  
“Well, I was perhaps possibly thinking that we could...”  
  
Jack's desk phone rang. Ianto sighed. That phone number was known to a very small number of people, none of whom would dial it unless things were going pear shaped in some major way. There went his afternoon plans.  
  
“Jack Harkness.... yes, of course I remember you.... yes.... all right... yes. I'll bring him. We'll see you in thirty minutes.”  
  
Jack put down the phone. “That was Rachel Levine at the Rabbinical Court. The Chief Rabbi wants to see us. He asked for you by name, by the way.”  
  
“That's unusual.”  
  
“Try unprecedented. They like to handle things themselves . If they can't, they tend to consult Kathy, not us. I haven't exchanged anything but polite conversation with the Rabbi in decades.Whatever it is must be ...”  
  
“A fucking mess,” Ianto finished the sentence. “You said thirty? That gives me a chance to brew fresh coffee for everyone and get Gwen and Andy going on background. I know the Jewish community is fairly reclusive but if it's as bad as you think it is, there has to be something leaking out somewhere.”  
  
He went directly to the large alcove that served as his kitchen and pantry. Starting the coffee, he looked through the cupboards to make sure they were well stocked with everyone's favorite snacks. These things usually turned into long slogs; only the Ecosystem knew when he would get another chance at shopping.  
  
While he waited for the coffee he looked across the main floor of the Hub towards Tosh's workstation. She was turned around, looking at Owen but listening to Martha. Those two had bonded over caring for him. Jack had opened up some of the rooms in the corridor that led to the lake, and they had turned them into bedrooms. Martha and Tosh had moved in semi-permanently, and they were never too far away from Owen or from each other.   
  
He studied the still form in the bed. To his Dark Sense, Owen was a furnace of energy. The first time he had seen him after the – what could he call it? Incident? Disaster? Bloody catastrophe? – the color had been a dark, sluggish red shot through with gold and an angry black. Now the red was the color of apples and the black had disappeared, leaving behind the gold and a pure green that hurt the eyes. He could see changes happening every day. Martha had told him the medical monitors were picking up the same thing, but they were no nearer to knowing when he would wake up.  
  
The soft whistle of the coffee machine attracted his attention. He prepared a tray with coffee, sugar, cream, mugs, and a large plate of biscuits, and took it to the sitting area. He also prepared a thermos bottle for Jack. A large thermos bottle.  
  
“Andy, Gwen.” He waved them over. “Jack just got a call from the Rabbinical Court. They want to consult him.”  
  
Andy gave a low whistle. “Well, that's one for the books.”  
  
“Certainly is. While we're gone, could you two rile the waters and see what floats up to the surface?”  
  
“They've never asked before?” Gwen asked, snatching up two chocolate chip shortbread biscuits. “That's odd, isn't it?”  
  
“Not really,” Andy said. “They have their own very efficient methods of dealing with nasty stuff. Their investigators are first class. If they're asking for outside help, they have a right mess on their hands.”  
  
“That's what Jack thinks,” Ianto said. “So we're heading out and we don't know when we'll be back. I'll keep in touch.”  
  
At that moment, Jack barrelled out of the office at his usual speed. “Ianto!”  
  
“Right here, cariad.”  
  
Jack made an “after you, Alphonse” gesture that had Ianto rolling his eyes as he headed towardsthe cog door. Jack grabbed the thermos, and, as he passed Gwen, he snatched one of the cookies out of her hand, snickering at her _oi!_ He munched happily as he followed Ianto to the garage. Without prompting, he slid into the front passenger seat. Ianto stared at him.  
  
“Who are you and what have you done with Jack Harkness?”  
  
Jack grinned at him. “Short drive. Coffee.”  
  
The Rabbinical Court was housed in a simple red brick building behind the Old Cardiff Synagogue on Cathedral Road. Ianto pulled into one of the parking spaces next to it. A tall, blonde woman in a severe business suit in peacock-blue with matching heels was waiting at the door.  
  
“Captain Harkness, Mr. Jones, I'm Rachel Levine.” They shook hands and she waved them inside. “Thank you for coming.”  
  
They followed her up the stairs and into a large corner office with big windows looking down into the back gardens of the surrounding houses. This area was known for its old trees; Ianto smiled to see an elegant horse chesnut covered in white and pink candles. The room itself was furnished a great deal like their library at home, with leather armchairs and overflowing bookcases. A gigantic desk had been positioned under one of the windows. Behind it, Rabbi Jacob Bloom was coming to his feet.  
  
“Jack.”  
  
“Rav.” Jack nodded. “You know Ianto?”  
  
“Of course.” The Rabbi motioned them to the armchairs facing the desk. “Rachel, would you see if Calev is back yet?”  
  
“Just came in, rav. He said to tell you he'll be here in a minute or two.” She smiled at Jack and Ianto. “Tea?”  
  
“That would be lovely.” Ianto said.  
  
She left the office, closing the door behind her. Rabbi Bloom sat down and they followed suit. An awkward silence filled the room until finally the Rabbi sighed.  
  
“We have a problem we cannot resolve ourselves,” he started abruptly. “We consulted Ms. Swanson and she suggested we call you in.”  
  
He fell silent again. Ianto had started to wonder if they were going to have to resort to charades when the door opened and someone came in carrying the tea tray. Ianto studied him. Tall, slender but broad shouldered, with red-gold hair worn tied back with a leather thong. He looked at Jack, and instead of the flare of sexual interest he expected to see – Jack may have been committed to their relationship, but he wasn't blind, and Ianto didn't expect him to be – he saw a quickly concealed widening of the eyes. Curious, he dropped his wards a just a little.   
  
The blast of power nearly blinded him.   
  
“This is Calev Neumann, our investigator. He will explain.” The Rabbi sat back, clearly relieved by the man's arrival. “Calev, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones from Torchwood.”  
  
The man put down the tray on the desk and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” The deep resonant voice made Ianto think of Welsh choirs and Eisteddfod competitions. “Has the rav explained?”  
  
“No,” Rabbi Bloom said. “I was waiting for you.”  
  
Calev passed tea around, then pulled another armchair to the desk and sat down. “We've had three deaths in the past three weeks. Each one a middle-age or elderly man, respected members of the community. Righteous men. In each case their throats were cut and their bodies were arranged in proper burial fashion. In the wall above their heads, whoever killed them left this.”  
  
He passed them a piece of paper in a clear plastic envelope. It was a plain sheet of paper of the sort sold in any stationary or office supplies store. In it someone had drawn a crude circle with a dot at its center. A sword cut the circle in half. Under the symbol there was a number 36 in elegant gothic style.  
  
“That was the first,” Neumann said. “The second one was identical, except the number was thirty five. The third one...”  
  
“Was thirty-four,” Jack said. “Someone is trying to kill the lamedvavniks.” The Rabbi and Neumann both seemed surprised. Jack grinned at them. “I studied in Salamanca. Isaac ben Abraham was my rebbe.”  
  
“Impressive,” said Neumann. “He didn't take just anyone as a student.”  
  
Jack dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I was fascinated by the story of the Tzadikim Nistarim.”  
  
“The what?” Ianto asked.  
  
Calev smiled. “According to a story that has come down to us from the oldest times, there are thirty-six righteous men in the world whose role in life is to justify the purpose of humankind in the eyes of God . They are hidden, maybe even from themselves. It is also said that one of these 36 could potentially be the Messiah, when the time comes and the world is ready for Him. They usually live and die quietly as ordinary men.”  
  
“But if even one of them is murdered,” Jack picked up the thread. “It will trigger the end of the world.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So you're telling me,” Ianto asked Calev Neumann as Jack maneuvered the SUV into the diminutive parking space in front of a mid-terrace house on Herbert Street, “that there is someone going around killing Jewish men of excellent reputation just in case one of them is one of these Tzadikim Nistarim?”  
  
“It would seem so,” Neumann sighed with relief as Jack turned off the engine. “Does he always drive like that?”  
  
“That?” Ianto made a scoffing noise. “That was the Jack equivalent of a little old lady in the family Vauxall.”  
  
Neumann burst into laughter. Jack pouted. “I'm right here, people. It's not gossip about me if I'm right here.”  
  
“Sorry,” Ianto said absently as he stared at the plain stucco facade. To his eyes it looked exactly like every other second-from-the-end house on the street, narrow and low, with windows on either side of the door with smaller ones right above them. Three-quarter-sized, Ianto's father called them, and Ianto would have had claustrophobic fits if he had to live in one, but to his Sense, it was a warm hearth full of laughter, tears, arguments, reconciliations, everything that made for a good family life. And it was human to its core.  
  
“No magic here,” he said to Neumann. “Just a place where several generations have lived. A good place.”  
  
“I had the same feeling,” Neumann said as he pulled the key out of one of the pockets of the messenger bag he carried. “But I wanted a second opinion from an expert.”  
  
The inside of the little house was neat as the proverbial pin. The ground floor was an open space with a tiny galley kitchen separated from the rest by an american-style breakfast bar. There were plastic daisies in a white vase on the counter, framed cross-stitch bouquets on the walls, and crocheted antimacassars on the backs of the armchairs and the sofa near the miniature fireplace. The place looked frozen in time.  
  
“He was a widower,” he said to Neumann.  
  
“It shows, doesn't it?” Neumann looked around. “Sophia's been dead for these twenty years and Sam still lived with her, day in and day out.”  
  
Jack studied the crammed bookcase next to the stairs. “Tell us about Sam.”  
  
“Samuel Levine, seventy-nine, professor of romance languages at Cardiff University until his retirement. Tutor, confidant, and informal arbitrator of disputes to all and sundry, Jew and Gentile, for most of his life. A real mensch, Sam.”  
  
“A righteous man,” Jack said, picking up a heavy leather-bound book. “And a learned one. Prime candidate for Nistarimhood, if I can put it that way.”  
  
“Yeah.” Neumann agreed.  
  
“Where was he found?” Ianto asked.  
  
“Upstairs.”  
  
They followed him up a short, narrow flight of stairs to a tiny landing with two doors side by side. Neumann opened the left one and ushered them into a spotlessly clean bedroom with a double bed, a large armoire opposite it and a dressing table under the window.   
  
“Bathroom is that way,” He pointed to a door next to the armoire. “It's shared with the other bedroom, which, believe it or not, is smaller than this one. Mrs. Bernstein, his next door neighbour, hadn't seem him in a while, so she let herself in with the key he had given her. She found him, poor soul. He had been neatly laid out on the bed. Throat cut. All the blood had seeped into the bed clothes. Nothing was disturbed so it seems he didn't put up a fight. I left everything as she found it until you got here.”  
  
Ianto examined the large stain. There was something odd about it, but he couldn't pinpoint the problem. This was the sort of situation where he and Owen made a fantastic team. He would Sense the problem and Owen would run his tests and figure out what was wrong. Dammit, he missed his partner.  
  
Jack touched his shoulder. “Ianto?”  
  
“There's something strange about the blood, but I can't figure out what. I should have brought Owen's case.”  
  
Neumann came to stand next to them. “What do you need?”  
  
“An ultraviolet light.”  
  
Neumann reached into his bag and pulled out something that looked like a flashlight. “I don't carry a proper one, but this might help.”  
  
Ianto switched the flashlight on and swept it over the mattress. Nothing happened at first, but then, slowly, the stain began to fluoresce a deep silver. A small oval appeared as if floating in the air above it; inside it rode a crowned man holding a bow over his head. Flashes of silver lightning ran around the oval, here and there flaring into tiny suns.  
  
Jack whistled. “Well, I'll be damned.”  
  
“Pretty much impossible,” Neumann said absently, frowning as he stared at the oval. “It looks like a military badge of some sort.” He looked at Jack. “Do you recognize it?”  
  
“Not as a military badge, no. I recognize the symbol, of course.”  
  
“It's familiar,” Ianto said. “But I can't place it.”  
  
“It's the first horseman of the Apocalypse from the Revelations of St. John.” Jack said. “ _And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see. And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.”_  
  
Neumann snorted. “Poor John of Patmos would be horrified if he knew what has come from his visions.”  
  
Ianto pulled out his phone. “Tosh? We need to check all the usual sites for any new apocalyptic groups.” He described the image floating above the blood-soaked mattress. “Also look for the old sun symbol with a sword through it.... Yes... all right.” He listened for a while, then turned to the other two men. “Tosh found a similar pattern in the Jewish Quarters in Granada and St. Petersburg, and in Brooklyn, New York. Four, two and five deaths respectively.”  
  
Something bleak came into Neumann's eyes. He straightened up, pushing his shoulders back. For a brief moment Ianto could Sense a vast icy anger barely held under control. “We'll need to coordinate with other agencies, then.”  
  
“Tosh has already started on that,” Ianto said. “Of course, you will have to contact your counterparts in those cities and clear us.”  
  
“Yes.” Neumann seemed to relax slightly. “Let's go back to my office. You can go over the files while I talk to them.” He shook his head. “We won't get any physical evidence from the earlier cases. People would have cleaned up already.”  
  
“We'll get more with the next one,” Jack said grimly. “They're not going to stop until they've done what they set out to do.”  
  
“And since it won't work, they'll double down on the killings,” Neumann finished Jack's thought for him. “Apocalyptic cults are not known for their logical reasoning.”  
  
Ianto raised en eyebrow. “You don't believe in the nistarim, then?”  
  
“Oh, I believe in them, all right,” Neumann said. “I also know how dangerous it is to accept ancient legends verbatim.”  
  
They headed out. Neumann locked the door, placing his hand over the lock afterward. Ianto felt a burst of energy and was sure that casual thieves would never even consider the easy pickings inside. He looked at Jack, who mouthed _later_ as he slid into the passenger seat, offering Ianto the keys.  
  
Neumann grinned at the sight of Ianto behind the wheel and was obviously about to make a comment when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the display screen. His mouth tightened.  
  
“Yes?... Now?.... Very well.” He made a face. “Is that necessary?... Very well.” He nearly snarled as he put away the phone. “That was one of my informants. He wants to meet.”  
  
“Are you sure it is safe?” Ianto asked. “We can't ignore the possibility that you could also be a target.”  
  
Newmann seemed startled by the idea, then shook his head. “I'm in no danger, but...” He took a deep breath. “He wants to speak to you too.”  
  
“News travels fast in your circles,” Jack said in his gentlest tones.  
  
Newmann winced. “There are things that are impossible to hide, Jack. Especially in my circles.” He got into the back seat of the SUV. “Which aren't, how shall I put it, exactly what you think they are.”  
  
“That was obvious from the beginning,” Ianto murmured. “You hide well, Mr. Neumann, but we aren't exactly novices.”  
  
“I suppose not.” He rested his head back and closed his eyes. “We're supposed to meet him at Mermaid Quay. Signor Valentino's?”  
  
Ianto and Jack traded traded a look. There weren't any gestures to give them away; the look was all they needed. It was a silent drive. Neumann seemed to have fallen asleep, but neither of them wanted to take any chances. Their new ally was not exactly what he seemed, and it was best not to take the chance to let any of their own secrets slip out.   
  
Even though it was nearly lunch time, it wasn't difficult to find a parking space. As soon as Ianto had turned off the ignition, Neumann opened his eyes. He gave them both an ironic look.  
  
“I guess we get to walk across the street in the sun.”  
  
Neither Jack or Ianto answered. Obviously Neumann already knew a little too much about Torchwood. They followed him to the shopping centre and up the stairs to the open-air section of the restaurant.  
  
“There he is.” Neumann pointed.  
  
Ianto saw a tow-headed man in jeans and a black t-shirt look in their direction. Even though his face was half-covered by aviator sunglasses, he seemed familiar. Then the man removed the glasses and Ianto's stomach threatened to turn inside out. He felt his lover withdraw into the icy calm that was Captain Jack Harkness, and he reached for his own power.  
  
As they reached the man who was not a man at all, Neumann repositioned himself so as to cover Jack and Ianto with his own body.   
  
“No tricks,” he said.  
  
“None,” the demon said. “Hello, little brother. Won't you introduce me?”


	3. Chapter 3

Jack tapped Neumann's shoulder. “Don't worry, Calev. He won't try anything here.” He took Ianto's hand. “Ianto, this is my half-brother Andras. Andrainanyas, this is my affianced husband, Ianto Jones.”  
  
“His only half-brother as of last year.” The smile was so much like Jack's that, for a brief moment, Ianto felt his heartbeat speed up. “For which a great many of us give you thanks. Abbadon was getting out of hand, even by our standards.”  
  
“Why are you here, Andras?”  
  
“This case you’re working on is making waves.” Andras said, motioning them to the table and waiting until everyone was seated. “The Powers That Be are not amused by this little group trying to speed up the time table for Armageddon. The old man has sent his own agents to look for them.”  
  
“And you are helping us out of the goodness of your heart?” Jack looked back at Neumann. “You have some interesting contacts, Calev.”  
  
Ianto winced at the sarcasm in Jack’s voice. He was still staring at Andras, and he saw the lovely gray-gold eyes grow dull and unfocused. Ianto gasped as he caught a glimpse of a vast and ancient pain.   
  
“My apologies,” Andras said, touching Ianto's arm slightly. “It is not something mortals should endure.” He turned to Jack. “I'm tired, brother. I'm tired and I want to go home.”  
  
The meaning of those simple words took a few moments to sink in, and when they did, Ianto couldn't help gasping again. “You want to reconcile with... But I thought...”  
  
“That our Fall was absolute and eternal?” Andras gestured to one of the waiters with the familiarity of a valued customer. “Under most circumstances it is. There is an escape clause, though. Tiny, almost impossible to achieve, and the price of failure is...” He hesitated briefly and then went on. “But it can be done.”  
  
“What is the price?” Jack asked flatly.  
  
Andras closed his eyes. “Unmaking.”  
  
Ianto was staggered by the word. The beings the peoples of the Book called angels and demons supposedly partook of the nature of God himself. They could be vanquished, but not destroyed, except by God himself – a horrific obliteration that left no trace of them, not even an echo of their existence.  
  
“How?” he blurted out, then waved his hand as if trying to push the word away. “How do you go back? Start doing good works and hope He notices?”  
  
Andras laughed, nodding to the approaching waiter. “Not quite. Ah, Giovanni, old friend, what do you have for us today?”  
  
“For a starter, freshly baked focaccia with rosemary-infused olive oil, for a main course linguini alla puttanesca, and a dessert of pastiera napolitana. Bene?”  
  
“Molto bene, grazie.” He waited until the waiter placed the bread and olive oil on the table and departed. “To go back to your question, Ianto. I may call you Ianto? It's not that easy. There are formalities. I can't...”  
  
“Give over,” growled Neumann, tearing a piece of bread and dipping it in the oil. “It anyone can be trusted it's these two.”  
  
Andras snorted. “On your own head be it. The repentant angel must find a sponsor. A very specific sort of sponsor.” He laughed as Neumann managed to growl again around a mouthful of bread. “All right, fine. The angel must find a Nistarim that will believe him.”  
  
Jack and Ianto both turned to look at Neumann, who shrugged. “Yes, I am a Nistarim.” He caught the look that passed between Jack and Ianto. “You're very good at that, you know. Whole conversations without saying a word. I did tell you the ancient stories were garbled.”  
  
“At the beginning,” Andras explained, “the Lord set a number of his angels to watch over mortals. They were called Irin, the Watchers.”  
  
“ _And the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves of all whom they chose_.” Jack quoted. “If I go back to look through my copy of the Book of Enoch, would I find your name, Calev?”  
  
“On the second list, not the first.” Calev sighed. “My true name is Penemue.”  
  
Jack laughed. “Ianto, may I introduce your... well, I was going to say patron saint, but that's not quite right. Guardian angel? Reputedly Penemue taught us reading, writing, herbal medicine...”  
  
Andras held up a hand. “Here's our lunch.”  
  
They waited in silence as Giovanni put large plates of pasta redolent of garlic, capers, pepper, and oregano in front of them. Ianto took one bite and immediately noticed that the sharp tang of anchovies was missing.  
  
“You're a vegetarian?” he asked Andras.  
  
“It’s... part of the process of learning to understand humanity. Eating, smelling, touching. An angel’s sensory inputs are completely different from yours. But enjoying flesh...” he shuddered. “I don’t know I’ll ever manage that.”  
  
Jack sipped at his wine, then settled back, hands under his chin, fingertips touching. “One last question, Calev. If I remember correctly, God destroyed all your children. Why are you helping Him?”  
  
“Not all our children were destroyed. We managed to hide some of them among the mortals. Then came the war. We stayed neutral.”  
  
“Not quite,” Andras interjected. “They did not take sides but they fought to protect mortals. Made them very unpopular with both sides. When it was all over, there were only thirty-six Irin left.”  
  
“And God made you an offer you couldn't refuse?” Ianto asked drily.  
  
Neumann and Andras both chuckled. “Something like that,” Neumann said. “He offered us the job of guarding humanity. In exchange, our surviving children would be allowed to live unmolested. Our blood lines would pass into the human population.”   
  
“And part of the job was dealing with repentant demons.” Jack turned towards his brother. “I am sure our sire is not happy about these developments. Or have you managed to keep it from him?”  
  
Andras toasted him before taking a sip of his wine. “So far. Not much longer, though, I don’t think.”  
  
The resignation in Andras’s voice made Ianto want to cry. He realized that it was just the angelic presence magnifying his emotions – all Presences had that effect on humans, though most were considerate and tamped it down – but there was also the almost human hopelessness. If part of Andras's redemption was to experience human emotions in the same way that he had to experience human sensory inputs, the poor bastard was in for one hell of a ride.  
  
Dessert appeared, warm, smelling of oranges. Ianto took a bite and closed his eyes to enjoy the sudden burst of cheese and the delicate taste of wheat berries. When he opened his eyes he found Andras watching him with a smile.  
  
“That was my first food. Calev brought me here and we had pastiera napolitana and coffee. I kept it down for as long as it took me to run downstairs and out to the bay. Then I was vilely sick. Quite an experience.” He took a bite of his own pastry and savored it. “It's my favorite.”  
  
Ianto snorted, and suddenly everyone burst into laughter; the very idea of a being of such power being unable to keep butter pastry, cheese and wheat berries down struck them as hilarious. Finally, Calev managed to get himself back under control.  
  
“So what's the story on this bunch, Andras?” Calev poured himself more coffee. “And how did you find out?”  
  
“I ran into Raguel a few days ago.”  
  
Ianto realized that the name meant something to both Jack and Calev, because they both sat up as if they had been poked with a hot needle. “Raguel?”  
  
“Our brother whose job it is to bring the rest of us Angels to account for our deeds.” Andras explained. “God's Justice on the First Born. The angel of oh-shit-he-found-me-out. I had a few bad moments, but it seems that the heavenly internet is a little faster than the one we use, because he was actually quite cordial. He told me that there were rumours of a group calling themselves Servants of the White Horse who had decided to take a hand at Apocalypsing. If that's even a word.”  
  
“The White Horse?” Jack said slowly, as if trying to find a secret meaning in the three words. “We seem to keep coming back to John of Patmos.”  
  
Calev hummed to himself. “So it seems. Was that all he said?”  
  
“He suggested in a very offhand way that I tell you. But there was something about the way he looked that reminded me of the good old days when he and I used to do a little hunting together.”  
  
“You think he was looking for someone?”  
  
“I'd bet my left wing on it.”  
  
Ianto stared past the others towards the blue-gray water beyond the railing and the old wooden piers rotting away in the salt. Rain clouds were rolling in, as they did almost every afternoon this time of year. He frowned. The clouds looked somehow wrong, and their scent was of burning leaves rather than lightning and ozone. He extended his Dark Sense fully, letting the ecosystem energies flow inside. He had tried to explain to Tosh once how it felt, and he had managed only a few stuttering sentences before throwing up his hands and swearing a blue streak in Welsh. Tosh had giggled herself into a fit of hiccups, but had understood the basic impossibility of verbalizing what was at its center, simply and terrifyingly, a way of _becoming_.  
  
“Something is wrong.” His tongue flickered over his lips. “Everything's... off. The sea tastes like metal. The air is burning.” He grabbed Jack's hand. “The ecosystem is being contaminated. Disease.”  
  
“The Time is here, then,” whispered Andras.  
  
“The Time is not yet,” riposted Calev. “You know it as all the First Born know it, whether we praise or curse. There is an order to these things, and this is wrong!”  
  
Ianto twinned his fingers with Jack's. “How do we stop it?”  
  
The two Fallen Angels looked at each other. Finally Calev said reluctantly. “I don't think there's a way, other than finding the Servants and stopping them.”   
  
Jack shook his head. “If we assume,” he said, his voice assuming a sing-song pattern Ianto had never heard before, but which made Calev and Andras smile, “that all the Nistarim are still alive, then someone is infecting the Ecosystem in advance. And Raguel is hunting for someone.”  
  
“You're positing that there's a traitor in Heaven!” Calev protested.  
  
“I am.. “Jack grinned suddenly and the effect was like the sun coming out after a long dark night. “And what one Presence can do another can counter.”  
  
Andras snorted. “Whoever is doing this is very powerful indeed, brother mine. Those of us who Fell, whether our father's followers, or those like Penemue, have had our power limited by our Sundering. He might be an angel of healing, but he can't do this.”  
  
“Not alone, no. But back in my Hub I have an avatar of Miach, the Tuatha lord of healing. What about it, Calev? Want some help?”   
  


 


	4. Chapter 4

Andras turned to Jack, one eyebrow climbing nearly to his hairline. “You forgot to tell us he was asleep.”  
  
Jack shrugged. “A detail.”  
  
“A considerable one,” Newman said, as he ran his hands lightly over Owen's body. “But you've always been one for taking long shots when it suits you.”  
  
“How do you know that?”  
  
Newman grinned at Jack. “What's my title?”  
  
“Watcher... oh.”  
  
Andras snorted. “Did you really think that someone with your kind of power was going to be walking around without someone on his tail? Everyone has been watching you since the day you were born, brother mine.”  
  
From his perch on the edge of Tosh's desk, Ianto saw Gwen and Andy nod to each other as if they'd had some suspicion confirmed. He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at Jack's obvious surprise. Each and every one of the people in the room, human and not, understood Jack's importance – everyone except Jack himself.  
  
“Can you wake him?”  
  
Martha stood at the foot of the bed, following Neumann's movements as if trying to detect whatever energy emanated from the Angel's hands. The soft beeping of the machine monitoring Owen's vital signs remained steady. Ianto could tell the lack of change was driving her round the twist.  
  
“Who is she?” Andras whispered. “Usually we get a bigger reaction from mortals.”  
  
Into snickered. The fallen angel sounded much like Jack did when he was in one of his petulant moods. “Martha doesn't impress easily. She graduated medical school at twenty-three, then became a Companion, and topped it all off by saving the world.”  
  
Andras actually seemed startled. “She's the one who conned Odin into drinking the waters of Lethe?”  
  
“Want an introduction?”  
  
The angel punched his arm. “I can arrange my own, thanks.” He strolled away to join Neumann at Owen's bedside. “Need help?”  
  
“It would be easier with two of us,” the Nistarim said. “He's not fighting it, which is a blessing, but he can't quite find his way. The mortal side is finding it difficult to accept the change.”  
  
“I can sympathise.” Andras placed his hands fingertip-to-fingertip with Neumann's. “Let's see about this.”  
  
Ianto felt the energy build until he thought he could see lightning arc along the elegant fingers and into Owen's body. A faint smell of roses pervaded the air in the Hub; roses and something else he couldn't identify. He looked at the others. Andy had backed away as far as he could without leaving the room. He looked slightly green around the nose and mouth. Gwen was gripping her amulet and her eyes were huge and unfocused as she added her own prayers to whatever was happening. Tosh and Martha stood together, holding hands so tightly that their knuckles stood out under the skin. And Jack...  
  
Jack just stood, motionless, the most beautiful statue Ianto had ever seen. Ianto wondered if Jack was having second thoughts, but after a moment he realized that Jack was holding himself ready in case he needed to act. Ianto looked around, calculating where he could do the most good if whatever woke up on the hospital bed wasn't Owen, and then moved quickly into position.  
  
Nothing happened for what seemed like hours. Slowly the scent of roses intensified until it overwhelmed their sense of smell and they could taste it, thick and syrupy, in the back of their throats. Andy was crouching, arm across his face, trying to hold on to the contents of his stomach. Just as Ianto felt his gag reflex kick in, the smell suddenly disappeared and a blast of cold icy air blew across the Hub. At the same time, the medical sensors started beeping wildly.  
  
“Somebody turn that fucking noisemaker off,” Owen groused, his voice rusty with disuse. “And could somebody help me sit up?”  
  
Neumann and Andras barely got out of the way as Tosh launched herself at her lover. Owen caught her and held on tightly. Laughing, Andras waved his hand at the machine. The sudden silence was filled by Tosh's little giggle as Owen whispered in her ear. Ianto could see the blush running up her neck all the way to her hairline.  
  
Owen looked past Tosh, scanning the room until he landed on Ianto. “Hey, Teaboy. Any chance of coffee?”  
  
Ianto gave him his blandest look, then smirked. “Coming right up.”  
  
He headed for the kitchen, humming under his breath. Setting the coffee machine to brew Owen's favorite French roast, he collected mugs, spoons, milk and sugar and put them on the largest tray. Digging around the cupboards he found a box of Owen's favorite chocolate biscuits and added them to the tray.  
  
Once the coffee was ready, he headed back to the main floor. Everyone had settled down in the sitting area. Owen was ensconced in the large sofa with all the women hanging around him solicitously. Andy and Jack were taking the mickey while Neumann and Andras watched from the sidelines, grinning. The demon nearly jumped him as he reached them.  
  
“Ianto! What is that delicious smell?”  
  
“Coffee.”  
  
“That is not possible. Coffee smells bitter and oily.”  
  
Jack poured out a cup and handed it over. “Somebody else's maybe, but not Ianto's. Here. Try it.”  
  
Andras sniffed at the steam then took a small sip. “Wow. Neumann has been pushing coffee and tea on me but I can't hold them down for long. This is actually...” he sipped again, “quite good.”  
  
“Try it with a chocolate biscuit,” Tosh offered one. “It's an amazing combination.”  
  
Andras followed her example and dunked his biscuit in the coffee before munching. “That is...”  
  
The blare of the Hub alarms cut through his words. The noise was drowned out by an inrush of air that seemed to heat and expand as it traveled, blasting bits and pieces out of the wall tiles. It was filled with something that reminded Ianto of the strongest and oldest of tree magics, but it was tainted by the stench of lightning and burning leaves. It was the same thing he had smelled at Mermaid Quay, multiplied a thousand, a million times, and Ianto found his Senses nearly overwhelmed.  
  
He moved without conscious thought, his mind and body automatically executing the emergency plan Jack had relentlessly drilled into all of them. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gwen moving on her own path. As he passed the Rift monitors he slapped his hand down on the fail-safe switches, triggering a lockdown. He felt the deep thrum of the distress beacons; it meant Tosh had managed to signal the other stations that Torchwood Cardiff was under attack.   
  
A second blast of air slammed into him, lifting him off his feet. He threw himself sideways into the niche under the stairs, barely avoiding crushing Gwen in the process. She was shaking, her eyes nearly turned all white. The sight made him shiver.  
  
“Gwenie! Gwen, come back!”  
  
“They're coming. The apostates, the betrayers. They bring hunger and disease, war and death.”  
  
Ianto grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Gwenie. Come back.”  
  
She shuddered. Her eyes snapped back to normal. “Ianto?”  
  
“Gwen, I need you to do something. You need to reach Myfanwy. Set her loose.” He thought for a moment. “Can you contact your Circle? ”  
  
She nodded. “After Abbadon we took some emergency measures. Being that high up will help.”  
  
Ianto touched her forehead. “I've given you as much protection as I can. They won't see you unless they're looking directly at you. Go. And Gwen... don't come back down. Remember what Jack says. If we're gone, the responsibility for all this is yours.”  
  
She kissed his cheek and ran up the stairs, crouching, trying to avoid anyone's line of sight. Ianto waited until she had disappeared before turning back to the main floor. Jack was standing near the fountain, Neumann and Andras on either side. The angels had reverted to the form Ianto was familiar with from his childhood, elongated bodies wearing Roman tunics and sandals, wings nearly brushing the floor. Ianto noted absently that while Neumann's were the traditional snowy-white, Andras's wings shaded from palest pink to deepest coral. They held Roman short swords that gleamed with lambent fire.  
  
Facing them across the floor were two others, one with rainbow colored wings and the other a blue so deep it shone with its own light. They were everything Ianto had been brought up to believe the highest servants of the Lord should be, but where love and forbearance should have been there was only implacable hatred.  
  
“Tzaphqiel, Ariel,” Neumann seemed shocked into hesitancy. “Why, brothers?”  
  
“The great experiment has failed,” the voice of the rainbow angel was a deep bell. “Time to end it.”  
  
“Surely that is the Lord's business, not ours.”  
  
The other angel laughed, and the sound made Ianto slap his hands over his ears. “He grows old and forgetful. Doddering about with his pet animals.”  
  
Even Andras seemed shocked by the outburst. “Apostasy, Ariel? Blasphemy?”  
  
“Speak not to us, betrayer!”  
  
Now it was Andras who laughed. “At least I defied the Lord openly, brother. You skulk around behind his back!”  
  
Rainbow wings flared outwards. “Time to end it, brother.”  
  
Andras brought his sword towards his face in a formal fencer's salute. “As you wish.”  
  
They moved towards each other. When the swords met, sparks fountained upwards and the sound of metal shook the Hub. Ianto felt compelled to watch, as if something was forcing him to bear witness, but a part of him fought to sake off the compulsion. He tried to turn his head towards the medical bay. Pain slammed into him and his stomach churned. He forced it away and reached for Jack, using his love as a wedge against the compulsion, pouring every memory, every emotion into his call.   
  
He saw Jack turn towards him at the same time that the rainbow angel lunged, sword swinging in a wide loop towards Neumann. Jack managed to deflect the blow, but the sword still sliced deeply into the Watcher's neck where it met the shoulder. His unearthly scream made Ianto's knee's buckle.  
  
Ariel threw himself away from Andras, laughing madly. “A true watcher is dead. And now it begins!”  
  
“Not quite yet, apostate.”  
  
Ianto swung around towards the voice. Owen stood in the steps leading from the medical bay. Except... it wasn't Owen, not really. Ianto dropped his wards and the Sight made him laugh out loud. Owen was there, but so was Miach, and Power ran through them, twinning them irrevocably.  
  
Owen moved confidently past the angels, who drew away in obvious fear. He knelt at Neumann's side where the Nistarim lay cradled in Jack's arms. His hands moved over the Watcher in a way familiar to Ianto; it was Owen using his Healing talent to diagnose an injury. His eyes met Jack, and he shook his head.   
  
Ariel laughed again and was about to speak, when a single flick of Owen's hand silenced him.   
  
“Andras!” The repentant demon crouched down next to him. “Your brother and sponsor returns home to the Essence. Will you take his place?”  
  
Andras stared at him, shocked into silence. Disbelieving, he looked at Jack, who gripped his shoulder encouragingly. He looked down at Neumann's body. He sighed. “I will.”  
  
“No!” Ariel screamed, his voice thin and reedy, as if stripped of its angelic power. “This is not to be!”  
  
“But it is.” Owen took Andras's hand. “I am bid to tell you that all Creation weeps this night, and yet there's also rejoicing, for one that was Lost has returned.”  
  
“There is a mighty army behind us, ” the rainbow angel addressed Jack directly. “You cannot hope to stop us, but if you join us we shall protect those you protect. Beyond time, if that is your wish. You are one of us in the flesh.”  
  
Jack shook his head. “There is nothing you can offer me that would tempt me. No matter who created me, I am human and I stand with my own.”  
  
“Then next time I will kill you,” Ariel screeched.  
  
“Next time you will try.” Jack dismissed them. “Ianto?”  
  
Ianto ran down to him, barely noticing the angels vanishing. He got there in time to steady Andras as he stood up. The new Watcher smiled at him uncertainly.  
  
“I don't know what to do.”  
  
“You'll make it up as you go along,” Ianto grinned. “Just like your brother.”


	5. Chapter 5

Jack licked the last few bits of cream from the spoon and sighed. ‘That’s the one.”  
  
“I think so too, Siana,” Ianto set down his own spoon. “Superb.”  
  
Siana Howell smiled happily at her cousin. “I wanted something a little different for the two of you, and I remember how much you disliked fruitcake as a kid. A simple chocolate torte with a coffee-flavoured buttercream filling and strawberries macerated in caster sugar and a little Cointreau as an accent seemed to fit the bill.”  
  
“It certainly does,” Ianto affirmed. “Thank you for saving me from the fruitcake.”  
  
“Oh, there’s no way I can do that!” Siana giggled. “Sister Enid tells me she’s making you a traditional groom’s cake for the Bishop’s luncheon, so you’ll have your first anniversary piece to put away. She also touched base with the head chef at Dinas Bran. The King has ordered Scottish and Welsh specialties for the reception, and Andre has decided to serve a choice of Tipsy Laird trifle, Cranachan, or raspberry ice cream in wine glasses with a selection of shortbreads on the side. Including a fruited one.”  
  
Jack sat back to enjoy the byplay between the cousins. It was the first time in three weeks that he and Ianto had been able to have a whole day off to themselves. Dealing with the fallout of Calev Neumann's death had not been difficult, but it had been time-consuming. Surprisingly, Owen had insisted that Andras needed to stay around until he got his new abilities under control, and Andras had agreed. There had been Calev's funeral, and then the sudden arrival of Calev's younger brother Anaiah – Tosh had a lot of fun creating a whole new identity for Andras – and his installation as the new investigator for the Rabbinical Court. To Ianto's open amusement, Jack had spent a great deal of time ignoring the glances his newly redeemed brother was sending Martha's way.   
  
At another level, there had been innumerable briefings and conferences with police and security forces all over the world. The Servants of the White Horse had gone underground. The ritual killing of Jewish men had stopped, but nobody was optimistic enough to think it was over. Jack and Ianto had worked themselves into near exhaustion, but there was nothing to find. Finally, both Martha and Owen applied medical force majeure and kicked them out of the Hub. They had decided to run away to Wild Rose Cottage to finalize the plans for their wedding cake, the one decision Ianto had insisted in their making for themselves.   
  
“I'm not complaining, Siana, truly I'm not, but a family lunch with the Bishop, a reception with dancing the night before, and a wedding breakfast after? It was supposed to be a family affair!”  
  
“It still is, Ianto,” Siana said. “You just didn’t realize how big the family was, that’s all.”  
  
Jack chuckled. “I keep telling him the same thing, Siana. I’m curious. What did Gwen and Rhys end up ordering?”  
  
“Weeel…” Siana drawled, then giggled. “Gwen couldn’t make up her mind, so we’re making a cupcake tree. Three layers, double chocolate with almonds, butterscotch cream, and ganache. Sister Enid will make the groom’s cake so they can keep a layer too. Now, I have to deal with the lunch crowd, which today includes the Camhedryn ladies' bridge club. Unless you are minded to spend the rest of the afternoon with the grand dames, Ianto, I suggest you grab your fiancé and take him into the woods for a bit.”  
  
“That sounds dangerous.” Jack smile held a touch of mischief. “I’ve heard terrible things happen to good boys who let themselves be led astray in the woods.”  
  
“You’re safe, then,” Ianto retorted, taking his hand. “You haven’t been a good boy in a long time.”  
  
They left the bed-and-breakfast by a side door that led to the formal gardens. Ianto led Jack past elegant parterres filled with multicolored blooms, espaliered fruit trees and small fountains filled with herbs instead of water. At the far end of the garden, a wooden gate without a handle was set into a tall yew hedge. Ianto laid his palm on the middle plank and the gate swung open. Beyond it a trail climbed away from the sea and disappeared into the woods beyond. Ianto broke into a near run.  
  
“Hey, slow down!”  
  
“Not unless you have your heart set on spending the afternoon playing bridge with all my aunts instead of making love, I won't.”  
  
Jack gave him an incredulous look. “What are you waiting for? Move!”  
  
As they entered the forest, Jack felt the slight internal shift that signaled passage into sacred space. He looked behind him. The trail had disappeared. When he turned back, he found himself at the beginning of a broad avenue lined with ancient oaks. A gentle tug on his hand, made him turn again, this time to face Ianto.  
  
“Welcome to my home, cariad.”  
  
Jack lifted their joined hands to his lips. “Thank you.”  
  
They walked down the avenue. As they passed, each oak lowered its branches and broad golden leaves showered down on them.  
  
“I thought you were worried about marrying a prince,” Jack teased. “And here the Oldest salute you as you go by.”  
  
Ianto stopped, looking at Jack in utter befuddlement. “You don't get it, do you?”  
  
“Get it?”  
  
“They are bowing to you, Jack. When you hung on Ygdrassil, It transferred some of Its essence to you. You became the avatar of the World Tree. Couldn't you feel it?”  
  
Jack nodded. “I knew something had happened. I felt strange in my own skin. But then I was home and you had taken me back, and everything was fine, so I...” he shrugged. “Put it away.”  
  
“Of course you would.” Ianto pulled at Jack's hand. “Come on.”  
  
They continued down the avenue. Now Jack could see that it ended in a wide circular space bounded by a ring of young rowan trees, in itself bound by a ring of mature ash, both surrounded by the ancient oaks, a triple living henge resonating with magic. At the center of the circle two bluestone pedestals held an altar stone where rested a cup and a knife. The stones were older than the trees except for the Oldest themselves, and Jack shivered as their power washed over him.  
  
Ianto led him into the Circle. As they passed the Boundary, Jack looked back over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of a shadowy someone making the ritual gestures of closing a circle. Jack was awed by the absolute trust he had been given. Achlesyddion ritual places were so secret that there were those who were married into the clan for decades and were still blindfolded before being taken to them. Ianto had not only showed him the Road, but the Oldest had allowed him a glimpse of the Guardian himself.  
  
A small noise made him turn back to see Ianto with his hands on his waistcoat buttons, his jacket neatly folded at his feet.  
  
“We don't go skyclad in this Circle but once.” Ianto told him. “And that is when we take a mate for all time. Would you join your life to mine here, in the sight of my Ancestors, the Oldest Ones?”  
  
Jack couldn't speak, but he nodded and copied Ianto's movements as his lover removed the rest of his clothes. They walked to the altar hand in hand. As he got closer, Jack could see that the cup was a kylix, a wide-mouthed bronze bowl with a narrow foot and two handles that curved inwards at the top, bare of decoration, and elegant in its plainness. Next to it the knife was a lethal triangle honed to a fine point, its blade and short handle equally devoid of decoration. He didn't need to be an expert to know that they were both ancient and powerful.  
  
Ianto released Jack's hand and picked up the kylix, offering it to Jack. He took it and looked inside. Instead of liquid there was rich scented soil. He gave Ianto a questioning look.  
  
“The true test of acceptance into my people. The Guardian has placed a seed in the soil. One drop of your blood and one drop of mine. If the Oldest accept our sacrifice they will bind our essences into the tree that will grow from that seed.” Ianto picked up the knife. “Think about it before you accept. Once it is done, it cannot be undone.”  
  
Jack placed the kylix on the altar and held out his hand. Ianto pricked Jack's left middle finger and then his own. Jack took Ianto's hand and turned it over above the kylix, pressing gently. A single drop of blood fell into the soil. Jack repeated the action with his own hand.  
  
For a moment, nothing happened, then Jack saw the soil heave, and a tiny seedling emerge. He grinned at Ianto and pulled him into a kiss. He felt Ianto's hands flatten on the small of his back as they rubbed gently against each other. Finally, Jack pulled away, resting his forehead on Ianto's.  
  
“I want to celebrate,” he whispered. “But I'm feeling a little exposed here. They're watching!”  
  
“Intimidated, are you?” Ianto shook with laughter. “Come on.”  
  
He led Jack away from the altar. As they passed the oak Circle, Jack felt the wards come down and he found himself walking in the mortal world again. They were moving towards the sound of running water. As the trees thinned he could see a meadow crossed by a stream draped here and there by weeping willows.   
  
“This was my own private place.” Ianto told him as they walked . “You have to go through the forest to find it. The other side is blocked by a rock fall. I used to come here after school with a book and hide until supper.” He stopped by the largest willow and moved the branches aside. “Here.”  
  
The grass underneath the arching branches was soft as silk. Jack sank down onto it and pulled Ianto on top of him. “Better. Much better.”   
  
Ianto chuckled and pressed his lips against the pulse at the base of Jack's throat, licking and sucking. Jack wrapped his legs around Ianto's thighs and wiggled until they were aligned, erections rubbing together as he rocked his hips. Sighing, he stretched his neck, inviting more of Ianto's attention. His lover obliged, nipping his way to Jack's ear.  
  
“Did you know,” he whispered, “that weeping willows are considered terrible gossips?”  
  
“Ianto!”


End file.
